


big dick energy

by Ponderosa (ponderosa121)



Category: British Actor RPF, Good Omens (TV) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Hair-pulling, M/M, Masturbation, Memes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Rimming, Teasing, Woman in Charge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 06:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20484029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderosa121/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: With the kids out of the house for the night, it’d seemed like a good idea at the time, but David clearly never should’ve let himself get trapped here between these two horny fuckers.





	big dick energy

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Michael Sheen please for the love of Roy Orbison wrapped in clingfilm gtfo of this tag and don't read this. (Unless you're up for railing some rando fan's skinny ass husband in which case, yoooo slide into my DMs.)
> 
> RPF prompt on the [GO Kink Meme](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/): two people are getting it on and one is watching! consensual, the two people fucking know the person is there, getting off on it. the watcher DOES NOT join in (technically got this, OP, but it's not 100% hands off). bonus points if the watcher gives instructions/directions.
> 
> Didn't tag this for F/M since it's not the focus, but if anyone feels I ought to, let me know.

David licks his lips. Michael’s just kissed him. A proper full-on kiss with a slip of tongue and a hand on his neck as if they were doing it for an audience. Which they were, he supposed. Sort of.

“Does he always go red in the face?” Michael’s asking Georgia. He’s amused, the arsehole, and eases back to give David a once over. “Look at you, you’ve turned into a strawberry.”

Michael pointing it out only makes it worse. ”No one said anything about making fun,” David says tartly. He glances at Georgia. She’s sat with her legs stretched across the cushions at the other end of the sofa, similarly amused and trying her hardest for his sake not to laugh. “I didn’t agree to that.”

Michael looks immediately contrite. “You’re right, David. I apologize.”

“He’s fucking with you, Michael,” Georgia says. She digs her toes just above David’s hip in the spot she knows full well is ticklish, and it makes him squirm so hard he knocks into Michael’s arm where it’s braced on the back of the sofa. The contact makes him squirm in an entirely different way. With the kids out of the house for the night, oh sure, it’d seemed like a good idea at the time, but he clearly never should’ve let himself get trapped here between these two horny fuckers.

“You cheeky bastard,” Michael says, gaze falling back on him with the sort of lewd promise that’d kicked up the blush in the first place.

“He’s a cheeky bastard who likes it when you pull his hair.”

“Oh does he?”

“He is sitting right here and not a part of the furniture.”

“Hush up. Give it a try,” Georgia says, and from the corner of David’s eye he spots her teeth close on her lip. She’s made it no secret she’s wanted to see him get fucked by one of his mates. He just would never have expected it to end up being Michael, but he’d been game and now here they were.

“How hard?” Michael asks, and it’s so clear that he’s asking her and not him that David’s belly does a little loop.

“Hard as you like,” Georgia says, breathless. Christ. Give the woman an inch….

Michael braces a knee on the sofa and slides his hand into David’s hair, fingers curling to hold at the root. “How’s this?” he asks, and pushes David’s head back until his neck is stretched taut and he’s gasping.

“Lovely.”

David swallows, or tries his best to considering the angle and the way his tongue’s dried up. The hot sizzle that had gone straight to his dick has left him without the capacity to properly work his hands. They wander uselessly for a bit before ending up hooked into the loops on Michael’s trousers. The heat of Michael’s body seeps into his knuckles.

“Kiss him again. With more tongue.”

“Gladly,” Michael purrs. He takes his sweet fucking time getting around to it though—David tries to twist towards the promise, but Michael doesn’t let him, the tug on his hair edging towards hurt as he turns. He gets about as close as his parted lips brushing the soft curls of Michael’s beard when a wet swipe of tongue finds the spot below his ear.

Michael’s dragging it out for Georgia, David recognizes. Another lick and a wicked grin and then a dirty sucking kiss near his pulse that threatens to leave a mark. David nearly goes out of his skin. They’ve got press coming up. He loathes photo shoots enough without the idea of being sat there with makeup covering a hickey that he’d _know_ Michael was aware of. He goes an ugly sort of hot at the thought of trying to pretend to be normal while some photographer looks at him asking why he keeps wanting to put his head down. A bit of hair pulling is one thing; he’s hardly a masochist.

“Ooh, careful you don’t leave a mark,” Georgia says, maybe catching the growing edges of David’s panic or maybe not wanting to deal with the scatter of giggles or _eww-gross_ gagging once the kids got an eyeful of the latest proof mum and dad weren’t sexless celibate monks.

Michael hums a promise not to do any such thing into David’s skin and nips at the hinge of his jaw. His teeth catch lightly at David’s beard and the rustling scrape and the feathery rush of his breath makes David shudder and his eyes go heavy. He can feel the shift beside him that says Georgia’s pressed her thighs tight and it triggers a little aftershock of lust in the pit of his belly.

The temptation to ratchet things up seizes him, to let a moan fall past his lips as Michael takes his mouth again. And maybe Georgia would like it, but probably she’d get wetter if he didn’t add any artifice at all. Easy enough to let Michael do all the showing off and just open to the eager push of his tongue.

Which David does, and fuck but Michael’s a good kisser with a damn firm hand. He can hardly move to chase the kiss when Michael pulls back, sucking hard enough on David’s bottom lip that it makes a sound when he releases it. He’s hardly caught his breath when Michael’s kissing him again, tongue swiping over his lip before delving deep into his mouth. His free hand comes up to stroke the stretch of David’s neck, thumb teasing the hard knot of his throat.

At some point David remembers how to work his limbs and slides a hand to feel where Michael is thick in his trousers. Rewarded by a hungry drag of teeth and a push into his palm, David gauges the length of him, thumbnail scraping along fabric. Michael groans, and beneath it, David catches the sound of Georgia releasing the breath she’d been holding.

“Should we move this upstairs?” he asks, glancing between the two of them. The shades are drawn, but it feels weirdly exposed making out on the sofa like teenagers.

“Oh I think I’m fine where I’m at. Michael can nail you right here, right in front of my salad.”

Michael’s peal of laughter is almost as irritating as being talked about as if he weren’t right here in the room. It’s eggplant emojis all over again. He’s not on social media for a _reason_, thank you.

“Best distract him before he gets too worked up about it,” Georgia says, and to him: “Sorry dear, it’s a meme.”

“I gathered,” David mutters, and thinks fuck it, forget not putting on a show. He gives Michael’s cock a final squeeze before sliding his arms up and around Michael’s neck. He pushes Michael’s face back towards his and says with a bit of added camp, “Focus on me, please.”

“Can do,” Michael says in a low purr straight into David’s ear. He can feel the impish spread of Michael’s grin. “So while we’re on the subject of salad: How about I toss yours?”

David is glad that firstly he understood that bit of slang and secondly he’d come to this party well prepared for the possibility. Michael’s hand in his hair had loosened and he nudges it away to twist around and answer by pushing down his trousers. Michael’s hand immediately sweeps down the length of his spine and helps strip off his pants.

“We’re nearly the same height. How is it you’re all leg?” Michael asks incredulous when David’s stripping off his shirt and kneeling on the cushions. His hand is on David’s hip, squeezing, as David spreads his knees and steals space back from Georgia. “Takes up the whole bed doesn’t he.”

“Fuck off. Georgia’s the sprawler. I sleep like a baby.”

“That true?”

“Oh definitely,” Georgia agrees, “he’s baby all right.” It makes Michael chortle all over again in a way that David knows he’s missing the joke _again_.

“Would you two rather--”

“We’ll stop, we’ll stop,” Michael says, but David can see him turn to mouth something at Georgia right before he sucks his fingers wet and slaps them right to David’s crack.

Let no one say Michael is not bold, David thinks, his nerves jangling as Michael rubs hard fingers across his hole. David’s grip on the back of the couch goes white knuckled when Georgia tosses a pillow onto the floor to spare Michael’s knees, and then in a blink it’s a puff of air against the spit drying on his skin and a hot wet tongue to follow.

Michael spears him on the first go, hands and thumbs spreading him open and then an eager wriggle forcing into his hole. David hangs his head and pushes back against the assault, body loosening between the mix of tonguefucking and light flickering licks. He’d take notes if he could think straight, but as it turns out being on the receiving end of a fucking a master class in eating someone out scrambles your brain. Michael sucks a finger wet and goes straight to alternating between pushing it in him to the knuckle and dragging his tongue wide over the clench of David’s hole.

He can hear when Georgia slides a hand down her jeans, and when Michael says, “Take them off, love,” David entertains the idea of Michael going down on her next. Maybe even doing things the other way round than planned and fucking Michael while his face is buried between Georgia’s legs. Sucking the taste of her off his tongue after. His dick jerks hard at the thought, as if all the blood in his body is rushing there, leaving him lightheaded.

Michael leans away from him and towards her, and David glances over his shoulder to see Michael asking with his eyes before his fingers hook into her knickers to pull them aside. She’s wet enough she’s drenched right through them, and David catches himself running his tongue on the inside of his lip as Michael’s fingers slip over her cunt and pull away glistening. He would love to watch him fingerfuck her, but Michael and Georgia are having a whole damn different conversation with just their eyes, and when she points with her chin back at David, Michael brings his fingers back, slickened, and works them right into David.

He’d been ready for it, sure, but also very not ready for it. Even less so when it’s Michael diving back in to lick around the push of his fingers and tasting his wife off his skin. He nearly fucking loses it all over the back of the couch and there’s not even a towel down.

David somehow finds his shirt and keeps it close though all of his attention has narrowed down to the feel of Michael’s fingers twisting into him, the flickering tease of his tongue around the stretch and the stray biting kisses smeared towards his hip. He’s ready to go on like this until he comes, but then Michael is pulling his fingers out and standing up, and there’s the jingling sound of his belt coming off.

“In my pocket,” Georgia tells him, making a vague attempt to kick the crumpled pile of her jeans towards Michael. Her voice is thick with lust, and she’s got both hands between her legs now.

“Thank you,” Michael replies, holding the packet of lube between his teeth as he strips. He’s still holding it in his teeth as he gets handsy again, palms sweeping up the outsides of David’s legs and then his back, thumbs pressing to give a light massage. 

It feels great even if it doesn’t ease any of the tension built up along David’s spine. He presses into the touch shamelessly like a cat and Georgia murmurs her approval. Michael gets a gasp out of both of them when he takes a handful of David’s hair again and holds fast while biting open the lube and greasing them both up with no further delay.

“Fuck yes,” Georgia breathes when Michael’s lining up behind him, hand steadying the push.

It’s a gritty sort of pleasure every single time, aching for it but never feeling quite prepared for something so thick pressed up into him. “Hold on f— Gimme a—gimme a minute,” David stammers, the whole of his body gone taut.

Michael guides him back by his hair and a whisper and David gives it a go, teetering on his knees with the cushions shifting beneath him. It distracts him from the stretch and when Michael releases him to skim hands over his chest and down his belly, the twinge of almost hurt is gone. Michael’s hands settle at his hips, fingers digging into bone, and he pulls David right down all the way onto his dick and it’s perfect and _easy_ and steals the breath straight from David’s lungs.

“There we are,” Michael says, his mouth brushing high on David’s back, the tickle of his beard making David’s skin twitch. “Good now?”

“Good,” David agrees. He braces fingers on the back of the sofa to help his balance, not trusting himself to keep from going headfirst onto the floor if Michael were to draw back and fuck into him with any force. But Michael lets him settle, and the turn of his cheek means they’ve both fallen into watching Georgia.

“I’m not the show here!” she says, her knees pulling tight together as if she had an ounce of shame. “Get on with it.”

“You heard the lady,” David says, though he’s gone a bit nervous again, the whole of his stomach just waiting to drop. He moves more out of restlessness than anything, but it kicks Michael into motion. Broad hands slide around him to grip his cock and give it a tug until he’s hard as nails again.

“Always feels a bit odd, doesn’t it, the reach around,” Michael murmurs. He grinds his hips into David as he strokes him. “Wrong size, wrong shape, but still _endlessly_ familiar.”

“I’ve never really--” David admits. Rare as it’s been for him to be with another man, in drama school it’d always been blowjobs if not some of this.

“Fitting. Always took you for a bottom,” Michael says, and David isn’t sure whether or not he ought to be offended at the remark or at Georgia’s stifled giggle.

Probably neither given how hot he gets the minute Michael urges him to lean forward again and starts fucking him in earnest. He can’t hope to drum up a single ounce of outrage anyway, not when he’s being pounded silly, the hot slap of Michael’s hips against him driving away every single thought that isn’t good, yes, perfect, or _more._

He loses it first of all of them, left slack-jawed and panting until the lightning bolt of pleasure fades into something syrupy and thick. He twists around enough to invite a messy kiss from Michael that lands mostly at the corner of his mouth. Georgia’s close to coming too though, he can tell, and he throws a satisfied grin her way.

“Need a hand, love? Or a tongue?” Michael’s asking, his rhythm slowed into long lazy strokes that David pushes back onto.

“Are you offering yours or David’s?”

Michael’s hands slide down David’s shoulders to his elbows with a sort of possessiveness that gets David clenching and tracking the touch with his gaze. There’s a bit of his come wet on Michael’s knuckles. “Well I meant David’s,” he says, and brings his hand to his mouth to suck it clean seemingly without thinking about it. “But that’s not to say I’m not interested as well.”

“Ohhhh, she won’t need a hand if you do that again,” David says, arching his back to press his shoulders against the warm breadth of Michael’s chest. He trails his fingers down his front to catch the bit of come left wet on his cock and holds Georgia’s gaze as he reaches over his shoulder to offer it to Michael.

“Is that so? Lovely. My tongue after all, then,” Michael says, and deliberately licks David’s fingers very, very clean. Georgia sucks on her lip and twists, watching to the last before burying her face in the back of the sofa as she shivers and falls apart.

“Your turn,” David says, grinding against Michael as he continues to suck on his fingers. Michael’s tongue works between them, and it’s only after a bit when his lips go soft and his hips stutter that David realizes he’s coming. David groans once he knows it, able to pay attention to the pulse of Michael’s cock throbbing inside him, and he feels dizzied and giddy all over again.

“Anytime the two of you want to do this again,” Michael says after a bit, dazedly. He pulls away and eases himself down to sit on the floor beside the sofa. “You have my number.”

David slides down to sitting as well and pulls Georgia towards him. She curls happily under the crook of his arm, legs tucked up beside her on the sofa. “Well, you two have to promise not to talk in meme,” David says, waving an accusatory finger between the two of them.

“I will make no such promise,” Michael says. He fumbles through the pocket of his trousers for his phone and idly starts searching. “But I will educate you.”

“Love some big dick energy,” Georgia remarks, the curve of her smile distinctly coming at David’s expense.

It’s a good thing he loves the mother of his children, he thinks, reaching to take the phone from Michael and hitting play on what is clearly a clip of salad-related pornography. He watches it a second time and still doesn’t get it. “Is it supposed to be funny? That woman is right to be disgusted. That’s rude _and_ unhygenic.”

“It’s the recombination of the original into derivative commentary that makes it funny,” Michael explains, inching towards him and pulling up a whole host of other images as if that’ll help it make sense.

“Look, tell me about it tomorrow,” David says, melting into the cushions. He’s tired. It’s late. There’d been a lot of wine before the sex.

“In the morning,” Georgia agrees. She scratches her nails through Michael’s hair. “Want the couch or the bed?”

“How about the bed? Supposing you aren’t one and done,” Michael suggests. He takes her hand like he’s going to kiss it and instead rises and draws her with him. She unfolds off the couch with a little delighted laugh and tweaks David’s cheek.

“Sure, now you want to go upstairs,” David murmurs teasingly, and grabs up the scatter of their clothes to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want the morning after, it's here: [how to exit a threeway like a boss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897840)


End file.
